There was still much to be finalised and agreed before we could all take a well-deserved rest together. The handing over of the five classroom buddies to the care of one pupil during the holidays, announced on Monday, also had to be completed. Of the more than half of the class of pupils who applied for the role, only four remain, which is no small feat considering the enormity of taking responsibility for five tiny living creatures.
The agreement was that students would ask their parents for permission at home. Those whose parents agree to this will be entered into a draw and the lucky winner will have his/her own joy. Others who have applied for this role will come forward during the coming weekends after the holidays.
After the second lesson, I wrote the names Amelia, Emma, Ian and Aurora on slips of paper. I folded the pieces of paper into small rolls and mixed them well in my hands. Sandi drew lots. While 24 pairs of eyes watched him with open mouths and eyes in anticipation (two students were absent due to illness), he slowly unfolded the slip and read. Ema looked at me, then at him, and shyly said, "My parents didn't really agree with the stick-men coming here. I have training and I won't have time to look after them."
"Well, OK. We'll draw a new lucky person," I said, shaking the slips between my palms theatrically once more. Sandi drew again; this time Aurora. "Yay!" rang throughout the classroom. Our Aurora looked around the classroom with a look of delighted and immodest triumph and shouted, "I win! Yes!!!" Everyone was genuinely happy for her. Ema and Ian were equally happy. Even Amelia, who was smiling a little uncertainly. She felt it was right to be happy for her friend, but she couldn't process the disappointment she felt at that moment so quickly. After all, she had been the first to ask her parents if they could look after the sticklebacks, she had reminded her teacher twice about the raffle and she had wanted so much to be in the company of these strange insects during the holidays.
"It would almost have been right for me to get them, but since anyway I never get anything," said the look on her face as she watched invisible ships sinking on the horizon somewhere behind my back. My heart trembled with sadness as I registered how she felt at that moment.
A gentle touch on my arm interrupted my thoughts. I looked down. The winner, Aurora, was standing in front of me and, as I leaned slightly towards her and looked into her eyes, she said, "Teacher, I think Amelia is much more eager for the chopsticks than I am to win. Can she have them, please?"
At that moment, the very emotion of it made the hairs on my body stand on end and my eyes fill with tears of happiness. I could barely manage the question, which was urgent, though at the time it seemed completely unnecessary: "Dear Aurora, are you serious?" She answered simply and firmly: "Yes!", followed by one of the proudest smiles I have ever seen.
"Well, then, go up to your friend and tell her. She'll be overjoyed!" I said, patting her on the head. The rest is history. A short statement from friend to friend and a warm and happy hug that followed. The joy was boundless and mutual and spread like a ray of sunshine throughout the whole class. Little faces lit up when I commented: "One good deed a day gilds the heart."
Aurora's heart will shine with a golden glow for a long time, and the message of good deeds will always remain in Class 2b and go on and on with them.
Ana Lončar, 1 Mar 2025
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